Case of the Highland House Haunting

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Marble?” Jillian suggested.

  “That’d be one helluva piece of marble,” I remarked, as I shone my light to the left and right of the dead-ended hallway. “I… hello. What’s this?”

  I stepped on a small lever I could see in the lower right corner of the wall. As before, with the painting, the entire wall swung open. Jillian and I took several steps backward so we could peer through the doorway to what lay beyond.

  “I remember this room,” Jillian said, as we emerged from the passageway. “This is that area we figured was the servant’s dining room. I wonder why this room is connected to the billiard’s room.”

  We took several steps out into the room and turned to see why we hadn’t noticed this room had a secret entrance before. As it turns out, this room had wall to wall paneling. I remember thinking it was seriously outdated, but I have a feeling it was purposely used to disguise this door. The hidden door, when closed, practically disappeared into the paneling.

  “Good job, Sherlock. Now that we’re here, let’s see if there’s anything else to discover, okay?”

  There wasn’t. We spent nearly an hour in the northern half of the house. We searched the servants’ rooms, the rear entrance to the house, and the pantry. We didn’t get so much as a woof until we hit the kitchen.

  “Awwooooo!” Sherlock howled.

  Watson yipped excitedly.

  “What’s gotten them so riled up?” I wanted to know. I looked around the kitchen and shrugged. “Aside from needing a complete makeover, I don’t see anything in here that stands out.”

  Jillian pointed at Sherlock.

  “Let’s see where he wants to go.”

  We were promptly led over to the wall opposite the stove. It had a small, semi-circular table on it, with three chairs. Sherlock ignored the furniture and gazed at the wall. The little corgi sat, unblinking, for so long that he inevitably snorted, looked up at me, and whined.

  “Help me move these chairs, Zachary,” Jillian said.

  After we had cleared the wall of all the furniture, both Jillian and I began studying the surface. I didn’t seen any hidden buttons, or secret levers, or anything at all which would make this wall stand out. What had caught the dogs’ attention?

  At this time, I noticed Jillian was now running her hands along the surface, as though she believed the wall was hiding a door. However, I quickly shed my skeptical expression as her hand stopped at one specific point and she knocked. Intrigued, I stepped closer.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a depression right here,” Jillian reported. “Let me show you. Here, put your hand next to mine. Do you feel that?”

  “It’s like there’s a dip here,” I decided. “And then was wallpapered over. How big is the area?”

  “Not very. I’d say it’s less than six square inches.”

  “Are you planning on keeping this wallpaper?”

  “Heavens, no.”

  I unsheathed my multi-tool I kept on my belt and pulled out one of its blades.

  “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  I carefully cut around the area Jillian had discovered. Peeling the old wallpaper away, like I was removing a reluctant sticker from a newly purchased item, Jillian and I both let out twin grunts as we saw what lay beneath: a perfect circle, set inside a larger square. Directly in the middle of the circle was what looked like an aging label, which had lost its adhesive, and had begun pulling away from the surface. I removed the label and then whistled with amazement.

  It was a keyhole.

  “I don’t suppose you have the key to this, do you?” I asked.

  Jillian shrugged, “I didn’t even know this was here. If I were to venture a guess, then I’d say no, I don’t. But, let me check the key ring the realtor gave me.”

  Much to our surprise, we learned the key was included. Then again, the house key fit the lock, so it wasn’t too surprising. Jillian wordlessly inserted the key and twisted to the right, and then when nothing happened, to the left.

  We heard a loud click.

  A large section of the wall suddenly shifted, which resulted in the tearing of wallpaper. I ran my hands along the surface, pressing in here and there. Satisfied I had deduced what happened, I turned to my girlfriend.

  “A door just opened,” I reported, “but because of the wallpaper, it can’t open.”

  Jillian slowly looked around the room and then snapped her fingers.

  “Of course! Do you remember the picture Katherine showed us? The one of the kitchen and the cases of booze? That was taken in this kitchen, I’m sure of it!”

  “The stove is in the wrong spot,” I recalled. “Are you sure?”

  “They evidently moved the stove, but yes, this is the same kitchen. I think we just found the compartment where the Highland family hid their booze.”

  I retrieved my knife and held it up.

  “Shall I?”

  Jillian nodded, “Please do.”

  I ran my knife along the distended wall, applying enough pressure to cut through the wallpaper. Acting like I was opening the world’s biggest box, I made several slices along the paper, freeing the door. It immediately swung open. Sure enough, we saw a room that couldn’t’ have been more than five feet deep, but it had to have extended the entire length of the wall, since it had to be at least twenty feet long.

  “What are those?” Jillian wanted to know.

  She was pointing at something that was leaning up against the wall, and like just about all the other furnishings in this house, it was covered by a tarp. I pulled the tarp away to reveal several paintings. One was a picture of what looked like New Orleans, which I have to say that I liked. And the other?

  “It’s the Monet!” Jillian breathed.

  “The same one from Katherine’s photo album?”

  Jillian nodded excitedly, “Yes! The very same! Zachary, if this is a legitimate Monet, then it’ll be worth millions.”

  “If it’s a legitimate Monet,” I began, “then that means it was stolen. We should track down who it belongs to and give it back.”

  Jillian rose up on her tiptoes and gave me a quick peck on my cheek.

  “And that’s why I love you, Zachary. You’re always trying to do the right thing.”

  The house fell deathly quiet. I cleared my throat.

  “Er, what was that?”

  Jillian froze as she realized what she had said.

  “Umm…”

  “You love me?” I repeated, as I turned to look at her.

  “Oh, that just slipped right out, didn’t it? I’m sorry. You probably aren’t ready to hear that, are you?”

  I took her hand in mine, brought it up to my lips, and planted a kiss on her fingers.

  “I thought for certain I was going to freak out just then, but right now, I can’t stop smiling.”

  A look of relief washed over Jillian’s face.

  “I love you, too, Jillian. And, let me add, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to say those words to anyone again.”

  Jillian threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. Both corgis craned their necks to look up at us as they watched us embrace. After a few moments had passed, Sherlock evidently decided a corgi intervention was necessary and woofed to get our attention.

  “Don’t worry, pretty boy,” Jillian told the corgi, as she squatted down to put her arms around the dog. “I would never hurt your daddy.”

  Watson whined and then wiggled her way under Jillian’s arm.

  “That goes for you, too, little girl.”

  I passed Sherlock’s leash to Jillian.

  “What are you doing?” my girlfriend wanted to know.

  “I want to see if there’s anything else in there besides paintings.”

  There wasn’t. Holding my phone up high, I walked up and down that narrow hidden storage chamber several times. Those two pictures were the only things stored in the concealed room. Shrugging, I emerged from the hidden room, closed the door, and reclai
med Sherlock’s leash. I gave him a good scratching behind his ears.

  “You are proving you’re worth your weight in gold, pal. Keep it up, okay?” I turned to Jillian. “Now what?”

  Jillian pointed back towards the foyer.

  “I say we go back there. Now that we’ve discovered this secret passage, let’s see if there’s anything else that attracts the dogs’ attention.”

  Nodding, I gave a gentle tug on the leash to get Sherlock’s attention. Back in the foyer, I had just taken a few steps toward the billiard’s room when my arm was yanked backwards. Surprised, I looked back at Sherlock. The little corgi was looking pointedly at the door leading into the den.

  “What, you want to go in there now? Sure, why not.”

  I pushed the door open and allowed Sherlock to enter first. The inquisitive little corgi trotted over to a tarp-covered desk, sniffed the base of it, and then moved off. Bemused, I followed the little dog as we walked around the perimeter of the small room. Glancing around, I could see that several of the walls had built-in bookcases. Those that didn’t had large paintings on them. Detecting movement in my peripheral vision, I looked to my right and watched Watson and Jillian walk in the opposite direction. I figured in twenty seconds, we were going to meet in the middle.

  Wrong again.

  Watson stopped after only a few steps. She lifted her head, sniffed at the corner of another large painting, and then turned to look up at Jillian.

  “What have you found, pretty girl?” Jillian asked. I watched my girlfriend hesitantly try to pull the painting away from the wall. It didn’t budge. She tapped the painting itself, but after a few moments, she gave up. “Well, there’s no secret door behind this one. It feels like there’s nothing back there but solid stone.”

  I pointed at the picture.

  “What’s it a picture of? Maybe it’s relevant.”

  Jillian took a few steps back to better study the picture.

  “Well, I’m not sure. It’s just a picture of a thatched cottage in the middle of the woods. There’s a girl out front, and she appears to be sitting at a loom.”

  “A loom?” I repeated.

  “It’s a weaving machine,” Jillian translated.

  “Gotcha. All right, I’m not sure why this caught Watson’s attention, but… hey, let’s do this.” I pulled out my cell and snapped a picture. “We can study it later. Then… Sherlock? Watson? Where are you two off to now?”

  The corgis led us from the den, over to the north lobby, and through a door on the right. I looked up at the 2nd floor, seeing how the dogs had led us to the base of the smaller second staircase. However, Sherlock pulled us to a closed door instead.

  “And what do we have through here? It’s… a bathroom. That’s cute, guys. I know you don’t have to go potty. You two both went just before we got here. So, what’s so important about this bathroom?”

  “Did you find something in there?” Jillian asked, from somewhere behind me.

  “It’s a bathroom, and no, I don’t see anything in here. It’s small, so there’s not a lot of places to stash anything. Fine, I’ll take a pic, Sherlock. Stop looking at me like that.”

  Picture taken, the dogs led us back to the stairs, and up. I silently groaned to myself as I realized that a thorough search of this floor would take a long while. I remembered there were at least 6 bedrooms up there, and that included a huge master suite. It was going to be dark out before we were done searching this floor.

  As I have mentioned numerous times, I’m wrong quite often.

  We were promptly led to the large bedroom in the southeastern corner of the house. Consequently, it was located directly over the billiard’s room. Stepping inside, I had barely time to turn on the lights before both dogs pulled us over to the closet.

  “I swear, there had better not be a mouse in there,” I grumbled softly to myself.

  I glared at Sherlock, who gazed up at me with an innocent expression on his face. The corgis watched me closely as I stretched out a hand to open the door. What we found was… an empty closet.

  “Swell, guys. There’s nothing here. Would you care to…?”

  I trailed off as both dogs entered the closet and sniffed along the left-hand wall.

  “There’s no place to hang clothes on this side,” Jillian observed. “See? There’s a metal pole stretching across the right side. But the left? Nothing.”

  “That really doesn’t mean anything. Maybe they had to store some boxes. You’d be able to stack them quite high in here.”

  Both dogs continued to sniff along the ground. Curious, I squatted down and gave the dogs a pat.

  “What’s up, guys? Do you smell something on the ground?”

  “There are light scuff marks,” Jillian said, after she knelt down beside me. “Zachary, I think this wall moves, too.”

  “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  Rising to my feet, I started to push and prod at the wall, fully expecting it to move. Nothing. The wall felt – and looked – as immobile as you’d expect a wall to be in a closet. Undeterred, I increased pressure, to the point I was leaning my full weight onto the wall. And, unsurprisingly, that accomplished jack squat.

  Watson came to the rescue. The timid red and white corgi, who had up to this time been sitting motionless next to Sherlock, suddenly rose to her feet, gave herself a solid shake, and then moved to the opposite wall of the closet and sat. I should also point out that this particular closet was tiled and she had chosen the tile closest to the door on the right.

  We all heard a ‘click’ and lo and behold, the wall swung inward. As one, Jillian and I looked over at Watson, who seemingly had a smile on her face as she panted. Sherlock snorted, as if to say beginner’s luck, and eagerly pushed forward, intent on investigating. With our ‘flashlights’ held high, we entered yet another secret compartment.

  I sighed as I looked around. This one didn’t contain any jewelry, either. There were no paintings, but there was a single open box against the far corner of the space, covered by a crumbling newspaper.

  “Well, let’s see what we’ve got,” I said, as I slid the box close. “We have one newspaper, and it is dated from the early 1960s. We have something that kinda looks like.. like… wow. I have no idea what this is.”

  Jillian leaned over to look into the box.

  “Well, I see a… this? Really, Zachary? You know full well what that is.”

  As though I was reaching for a golden idol, and pretending that the room we were in would suddenly collapse in on itself if I touched it, I lifted the rotary telephone from the box and held it up to the light.

  “I am so amazed. I have never seen one of these in such pristine condition before.”

  “You silly man,” Jillian giggled. “What else is in there?”

  “Well, we have the phone and we have what looks like, um…” I trailed off as I felt my face flame up. What in the world could it be? “You tell me.”

  I pulled the strange contraption out of the box and held it up. It looked like an elongated newel post, only it had been cut in half and mounted on a flat base. Also present was a handle, which presumably the user could spin in order to narrow or widen the strange wooden object.

  My poor mind kept falling into the gutter, and try as I might, I couldn’t begin to imagine what the device could be. Thankfully, Jillian was much smarter than me. She provided the answer.

  “It’s an antique hat press. You place your hat here, and then turn the handle there. It reshapes your hat, as needed.”

  “And you know this how?” I curiously asked.

  “My grandmother had one of these. It looked remarkably like this one, making this French, I believe. Is there anything else?”

  “Well, nothing you need to know about.”

  “What does that mean?” Jillian cautiously asked. “Would you tell me, please?”

  I shrugged, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Very well. We have not one, or two, but three dead bugs in here. From the look of it, I’d s
ay they were…”

  “No!” Jillian all but shouted. “You’re right. I don’t need to know. I was already planning on having this place fumigated once the work was done.”

  “Well, I think we should… hey, hang on. Jillian? You’re not going to believe this.”

  My girlfriend poked her head into the closet.

  “What is it?”

  I pointed at the back of the secret room, which was nearly ten feet behind me.

  “This isn’t the back,” I reported, as I strode away from the door. “This closet makes another sharp turn, just like the one in the master bedroom. There’s… whoa! Wow, that was close.”

  “What’s the matter?” Jillian called, from behind me. “Zachary, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I didn’t see this here. Jillian, there is a staircase here! It’s one of those tight, spiral ones that’s barely wide enough to admit a person.”

  “I’m coming. I want to see this.”

  Jillian appeared at my side, as did both corgis. Sherlock lowered his nose and sniffed along the ground. Within moments, the little corgi had snorted several times, seeing how there was a thick layer of dust on the ground.

  “Let’s see where this goes!” Jillian said, as she hurried by me, handing me Watson’s leash as she did.

  We cautiously made our way down the stairs. I heard Jillian announce we had hit the bottom, and just like that, light was suddenly streaming in. I emerged into the bright light and looked around. We were back in the den! I turned to look back at the darkened passage we had just come through. Sure enough, the doorway was another painting, and it was the one with the thatched cottage and the girl working at the loom. This time, the door had swung outward, into the room, and from the looks of it, the door itself had a layer of stone mortared on its surface. That was why Jillian had believed there wasn’t a passageway behind it. Watson had known, of course. I can only presume she must have smelled something behind the painting.

  “Have I mentioned that I’m really enjoying this house?” I asked.

  Jillian laughed, “Once or twice. Let me guess. You’d prefer it if I left all these secret passageways alone.”

  “Oh, hell yeah!” I agreed. “You can have a field day with that. Think how that would read on a flyer! Pomme Valley’s newest bed and breakfast, serving up the experience of a lifetime! Find the hidden passages and win a prize!”